


More Than the Daily Grind

by smokeopossum



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Erections, Exhibitionism, F/F, Frotting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, absolutely NO CUDDLING, also they do a fight, i mean i guess, is it still exhibitionism if it's on a roof, there are so many Widowtracer Tropes in this, these hands are only capable of creating filth, trans female characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 17:44:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11560203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeopossum/pseuds/smokeopossum
Summary: $10 patreon commission for welpFighting your archenemy can be hard sometimes.





	More Than the Daily Grind

**Author's Note:**

> hey howdy what's up y'all  
> special work for one of my patrons on the $10 tier. interested in getting your own idea turned into a 1k-3k word fic? or maybe just wanna throw in some support? [visit my li'l ol' tumblr right here for more info :v](https://smokeopossum.tumblr.com/)  
>  **regular note to please read the tags and please don't leave transphobic garbage comments.** i'm tired and recovering from surgery and i don't want to get into it with yr dumb ass because u don't know how to read and feel entitled to share your raw sewage

As she traded blows with Widowmaker above the streets of Hanamura, Tracer couldn’t help but be distracted.

Maybe it was the way the lamplight reflected off of her ridiculous suit, throwing her curves into stark relief. Maybe it was the way her perfect features tugged back into an irritated scowl seemingly reserved just for her. Maybe it was the sakura blossoms that had managed to insinuate themselves in her thick, dark ponytail, an appealing combination of pinks and purples that her fingers itched to run through.

She blocked a high kick meant for her head and blinked away from the roundhouse that followed, narrowly avoiding a spiked heel to the mouth. Her eyes hung on the sleek metal boot, sharp and intimidating, and she wasted an instant wondering how it might feel to have it tenderly brushing against her cheek for once instead.

The brief lapse of concentration was enough. She threw a punch that Widowmaker easily caught and felt her entire center of gravity shift as she was flipped to the ground, landing roughly on her back. Her breath left her in a harsh exhale and she took a moment to get herself together. Oddly enough, Widowmaker allowed it.

The tall assassin stepped closer with a smirk, bending slightly to peer down at Tracer. “Having trouble, chérie? You seem distracted.”

Even upside down and smug, she was terrifyingly beautiful.

Lena licked her lips and shook her head to chase away the thought. Instead of responding, she recalled and launched herself forward, surprising Widowmaker with a tackle. They landed hard on the roof, limbs tangling as they struggled to gain leverage over one another.

“Rude,” she heard Widowmaker breathe, and Tracer let out a scoff as she attempted to pin her arms behind her back. She got an elbow to the face for her trouble, only barely managing to wrench her head away before she broke her nose.

“Didn’t know we had rules to our little engagements, love - thought we were allowed to play dirty,” Tracer teased with a grunt as Widowmaker rolled her onto her back. “Wasn’t expecting to hear you complaining, considering which side of the law you’re on today.”

Knees pinned her hips to the ground while hands grabbed her wrists and slammed them above her head, gripping tight enough to bruise.

“If you wanted me to play with you, chérie, all you had to do was ask.”

Tracer took a long second to let her eyes hang on dark, full lips curled up in a smirk, then slid her gaze down the smooth column of her throat to the scandalously revealing front of her suit.

She swallowed and took her best chance at throwing Widowmaker off.

She bucked her hips roughly up against Widowmaker’s rump, despite the protest of the muscles in her abdomen, and succeeded in shifting her off balance enough to roll them over. Widowmaker sucked in a quiet gasp as Tracer settled her weight on top of her, taking her turn to pin with a triumphant smile.

It wasn't until she saw the odd look on Widowmaker's face that it faltered. When she felt the slight, growing pressure beneath her stomach, she gaped.

“Is that - are you getting _stiff?”_ Tracer asked with a bewildered look. Widowmaker growled and struggled to get free, lavender filling her cheeks.

“I would not choose this moment if it could be helped,” she said through gritted teeth. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Tracer flushed and scowled down at her, opening her mouth to respond with a snarky comment of her own when Widowmaker twisted them both to the side and kneed her in the stomach. A groan escaped her as she clutched at her midsection while Widowmaker rolled to the right into a crouch, then stood with a haughty glare.

“Are you done _bothering me_ now?” she snapped, eyes searching the rooftop for wherever Tracer had managed to kick her rifle.

“Of _course_ not, love,” Tracer wheezed in response, then froze as she picked herself up off the ground and looked over to her enemy. There was a definite bulge along the assassin’s thigh, only highlighted further by the shine of her garish purple suit.

She should be able to ignore it. She’s a _professional._ She’s seen an erection before, albeit not Widowmaker’s, but it’s not some earth-shattering phenomenon. She can _do this._ She just needs to distract Widowmaker long enough for the VIP to get to safety, and--

Oh she found her gun, shit.

Tracer blinked forward, frowning and keeping her eyes above Widowmaker’s shoulders, and tackled her to the ground once more. She sent the rifle spinning away, thankfully, but took a punch to the face and a knee to the solar plexus. Widowmaker’s gauntlet shot out a venom mine right next to her as she rolled away to grab her gun yet again, but Tracer refused to let her get ahold of it, blinking and scrambling to reach it before her despite the ache in her body, and managed to kick it over the side of the roof.

A thick cable shot out towards the gun with a hiss. Before it could reach the rifle, Tracer popped out a pistol and fired off a few pulse rounds that knocked it out of the way of the grappling hook.

A frustrated growl came from behind her as it finally skittered over the edge. An instant later, her face met rooftop, a heavy body pressing up against her from behind as her own gun flew over the side as well.

“Must you be a nuisance _every time_ I’m meant to complete a task?” Widowmaker hissed into her ear as she jerked her head back by her hair.

“Sorry, love, it’s in my job description,” Tracer grunted in response, acutely aware of the firm length pressing against her backside. Under better circumstances, this would be a fantasy come true for her.

Unfortunately, her body didn’t get the memo that this wasn’t the best time, and she felt herself instinctively rub back against her. Widowmaker froze above her, not even seeming to breathe, while Tracer blushed brightly with a quiet “shit,” heart racing as she felt herself start to get hard as well.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Widowmaker finally asked, grip tightening in her hair. Tracer let out an involuntary whimper.

“Don’t rightly know,” she breathed in response. Her hips rocked back against her once more and a quiet wave of excitement rolled through her when she felt Widowmaker twitch against her. “You into it?”

Widowmaker hips gave an experimental rock that forced a quiet moan from Tracer. She released a long, slow breath before doing it again, a more definite pulse against Tracer’s rump following at the action.

“... Maybe. Are you hard?” she murmured against Tracer’s ear, lacking the venom she had been expecting. Instead, she found a quiet curiosity.

“Getting there,” Tracer admitted, still flushed. To her surprise, Widowmaker let out a soft chuckle.

“Mine was an accident, but yours is intentional, hm?” Her hips rolled against Tracer’s backside again, slowly grinding the stiffness in her suit against her. “Perhaps this mission won’t be an entire loss.”

Tracer moaned weakly. “What’re you suggesting?”

“We both seem to be rather excited,” Widowmaker whispered. Her lips moved closer to Tracer’s ear, brushing over the piercings. “I have already failed my mission, but at least one good thing could come from this. Is that offer of playing dirty still on the table, chérie?”

The hand in her hair loosened slightly, but gave a gentle tug. Tracer let out a whine and bucked against the roof.

“Maybe. Let me flip over, this is getting a bit uncomfortable in the trouser department.”

Widowmaker snorted but surprisingly relented, getting to her knees and shifting to the side as she released the grip on her hair. Tracer rolled onto her back with a quiet sigh of relief, eyes flicking to the crotch of Widowmaker’s suit. Her erection was even more visible now, straining at the clingy material as it gave an obvious twitch.

She was somehow caught off guard when Widowmaker resumed her position on top of her, jaw dropping with a quiet “oh” as she settled against the bulge in her bright yellow leggings.

“This is acceptable, no?” the assassin breathed as she rubbed herself against Tracer with a smirk, hands resting on the casing of her accelerator. Tracer grabbed at her hips and rolled against her with a slowly forming grin.

“Yeah, this is plenty ‘acceptable’. Do you fancy a bit of snogging, too?”

Widowmaker leaned down over her. “It would be nice to shut you up for once,” she murmured, stealing Tracer’s chance for a reply as she crashed their lips together.

Tracer’s eyes fluttered shut at the rough meeting of their mouths. She groaned and eagerly responded to the kiss as her hands slid lower, cupping Widowmaker’s rear and pulling her harder against her. Her fingers dug into the firm muscle greedily, taking advantage of the opportunity now that it was finally presented to her with only a minor pang of disappointment that her gloves were still on.

Their erections slipped and slid against each other easily, slickly gliding from the combination of latex and lycra. Widowmaker bit at her lip as one hand threaded through Tracer’s hair again, lightly tugging this time, and was rewarded with a soft whimper as she bucked into her.

She huffed a laugh against her and opened her mouth into the kiss, letting out a quiet, pleased noise as Tracer followed suit. Their tongues met and licked against one another, hips twitching at every flick in an endless call and response.

The soft, smooth fabrics between them felt unbearably good. Tracer was beginning to worry she'd have trouble controlling herself.

Widowmaker rocked down hard against her, moaning into her mouth as their lengths dragged along one another. She pulled back, face flushed a soft purple, and narrowed her eyes down at Tracer.

“My suit is getting uncomfortable - I'm going to undo it. I trust you are too sportsmanlike to attack me?”

Tracer’s eyes widened and flicked down to the admittedly uncomfortable-looking stretch of her suit before quickly returning back up. “Love, the only thing I want to attack you with right now is my mouth.”

She didn't bother to dignify Tracer’s comment with a response, instead reaching up to the clasp behind her neck to quickly release it. The front of her suit went slack immediately, exposing her chest and rendering Tracer speechless.

“You’ll catch flies like that, chérie,” Widowmaker teased, head tilting to the side. She trailed her fingers down her neck and between her breasts, then slipped lower to squeeze at herself over the latex with a soft moan. Tracer pulsed beneath her.

“I’d make a joke about spiders and flies, but I can’t be arsed.”

She kneaded Widowmaker’s bottom and bit her lip, letting out a whimper as a pale blue hand slid underneath the suit. Widowmaker pulled herself from the purple latex a second later, chuckling with her cock stiff and thick in her hand.

Tracer gaped.

“Something the matter?” Widow asked as she began slowly stroking herself. Tracer’s eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets at the sight.

“This mission has definitely not gone the way I thought it would, is all. Bloody _hell_ you’re big.”

Widowmaker smirked and squeezed her fist up her length, precum beading at the tip. She swiped it up with a finger and lifted it to Tracer’s mouth as she lowered herself over her once more.

“Do you want a taste?” she breathed against her ear, breasts pressing against her chronal accelerator. Tracer’s lips eagerly parted in response.

A quiet whimper escaped her as Widowmaker’s gloved finger pressed into her mouth, salty bitterness meeting her tongue. She closed her lips and sucked the finger as she licked it clean, body flushing with heat as Widowmaker gave a quiet gasp.

Tracer felt her throb, unsurprised when her hips continued rocking against hers shortly after.

She softly bit at the finger still in her mouth and reached up to run a hand along Widowmaker’s back to hug her closer. She felt her shiver and slid her hand lower, underneath the loosened suit to knead at her firm rear, and bit back a noise of surprise as Widowmaker jerked against her.

The finger in her mouth pulled free, wetly dragging down her jaw as the assassin buried her face in the crook of her neck. Tracer gave her backside another greedy squeeze, smirking when Widowmaker bucked and let out a breathy moan.

“Oh, you like having that gorgeous arse of yours played with?” Tracer said with a teasing giggle, hips rocking as she grabbed a handful of it. Widowmaker growled even as she humped against her.

“You talk too much,” she replied with a huff, reaching up to tug at Tracer’s hair. The smirk immediately vanished from her face as Widowmaker yanked her head to the side and latched her mouth onto her neck, sucking and biting while their hips rolled together.

“Shit,” Tracer whimpered, eyes fluttering. She didn’t have to look to know Widowmaker pressed a smirk against her throat. A lukewarm tongue licked up her neck to her ear, teeth briefly tugging at the lobe.

“We are going to ruin those leggings, mon amie,” Widowmaker whispered, husky voice shooting straight between her legs. Tracer blushed, half tempted to argue, but felt herself leak against the material as Widowmaker rutted against her.

The lycra was rapidly beginning to dampen between the two of them, dark splotches of precum staining the front. Every brush of their tips together coaxed out another dribble. Tracer panted as Widowmaker began leaving hickeys along her neck, teeth scraping with every sharp buck of her hips, and felt heat begin to tug just below her navel.

Widowmaker’s lips found hers again, cool tongue easily slipping into her mouth. She welcomed it in, moaning around it, and squeezed at her rump to get her to jerk a little harder against her. The hand in her hair began tenderly petting, thumb brushing against her cheek as they kissed, and Tracer let out a soft noise of approval at the touch.

Warmth continued to spread through her, growing hotter and more intense as they rubbed against one another. Their kiss devolved into heated panting against each other, the rock of their hips smoothly accelerating into desperate bucks.

“Shit,” Tracer gasped against her lips, eyes squeezed tightly shut as her nails began to dig into Widowmaker’s backside. “Aah, close, _mmph!”_

She let out a surprised moan as Widowmaker took her lips in a needy kiss. Her hips jerked once, twice, before roughly grinding up against hers, the boiling pressure that had been building up finding sudden release.

Tracer whimpered and squeezed Widowmaker to her as she came, warmth pulsing from her in heavy waves. She could feel her leggings grow hot and wet between them. Widowmaker gave a quiet moan and bit at her lower lip as she followed her over the edge, length twitching against hers through the fabric and soaking it further. Tracer bucked with every spurt of her release, panting as it coaxed aftershocks from her.

Pinned to an uncomfortable rooftop with her archnemesis on top of her, half naked and rubbing her erection against hers, and she had just had one of the best orgasms of her life.

They laid together a moment after they were finished, catching her breath in Tracer’s case and pressing soft kisses to her cheek and temple in Widowmaker’s. She played with her hair, nuzzling at her, and it was only when Tracer paused and took a moment to realize what she was doing that Widowmaker abruptly stopped and began pulling away.

She got to her knees as Tracer blinked up at her, quickly tucking herself back into her suit with a faint flush.

“Were you--” Tracer started, faintly smiling.

 _“Non,”_ Widowmaker interrupted. “I don't know what you're about to say but _non.”_  

Tracer grinned, eyes sparkling. “Yeah, alright. So are we pretending this never happened, or have I found a new way of keeping you busy that involves a lot less bruising?”

Widowmaker snorted as she redid the clasp of her suit, then smirked down at Tracer while she made sure everything was properly covered.

“I thought the fighting was the foreplay, chérie.”

She stood and brushed herself off, still smirking, and teased the toe of her boot between Tracer's legs. “I’m certain you will come up with something convincing for this,” she said, lightly tracing the obvious outline of her cock through the messy, wet material.

“Bollocks.”

Tracer blushed brightly as she sat up and hoped Widowmaker didn't notice the interested twitch of her member as her boot nudged it. Widowmaker only chuckled and stepped aside, a familiar hiss escaping as she sent out a grappling hook to a nearby building.

“Au revoir, _Tracer.”_

She blew her a kiss before swinging away, leaving her sweaty, sticky, and covered in lipstick.

Tracer fell back onto the rooftop with a sigh.

She’d figure something out.

**Author's Note:**

> rooftops can't be comfortable for getting your bone on but i mean. i'd do it


End file.
